The Tresle Bridge

This is one of my favorite pictures from the years I lived in "the womb house". What was built for the railroad in 1901, turned into a place where I would stop and talk with God in the mid to late 1990's.

When I moved into "the womb house", the bridge was in pretty bad shape... and barely walkable. (though somehow I managed to muster my courage to walk across from beam to beam!). Over time, the rail road ties were replaced with an honest to goodness wooden footbridge. In the process, what was once a means to transport goods to Nashville, became a Rails to Trails trail.

The trail head began directly across the street from my house, so I walked it nearly every day. I was more likely to run into deer than another human being, which, at the time, was perfect in my eyes. I watched the seasons change on the hillside. Turtles sunned on logs and fish swam beneath the surface of the water. The heron stood gracefully in the shallow waters, despite the sound of cows in the pasture. One day, I was truly blessed to watch otter play.

In the fall and the spring, when the air was cooler than the water, I'd head out in the morning. The spiders had created webs between the upright posts, and the dew would form beads along their strands. The "Dew Drop Galleries", I named them. They were beautiful creations.

The thing that I loved most - and still do, when I make the time to drive out there - was the breeze. As I'd approach the bridge, the breeze would come up and brush the hair out of my face. It was if God Himself were there, brushing it out of my eyes, and wiping the tears that He found there.

I'd stop in the middle of the bridge and stare into the water. Watch a snake swim past, or a leaf float by. There, I'd say my prayers. It was the beginning of my conscious contact with God. It was there that I became aware of His presence in my life.

Thank You for your consistency; for meeting me there day after day. For whispering in my ear and in my heart, "Here I AM"...